


Careful Fear, Dead Devotion

by Dorks_in_Space



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Armitage Hux Needs A Hug, Bruises, But I'm a sucker for redemption arcs, Childhood Trauma, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Hux is awful, Kylo doesn't know how to be nice, Kylo feeling remorse, M/M, Non Consensual touching, OCs who will have long and happy lives, Poe is a gryffindor, Poe is also a sucker for redemption arcs, Redemption, Slow Burn, Super unhealthy background Kylux, That last tag was a lie, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:19:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorks_in_Space/pseuds/Dorks_in_Space
Summary: From the prompt on tfa_kink:Supreme Leader Kylo Ren makes Hux’s life a living hell after Crait.Will be eventual Poe/Hux and as much a redemption arc as is possible for someone as thoroughly horrible as Hux. Slow burn as hell though. Lots of angst and unhappiness and trauma, eventual gentle cuddling and kink negotiation and healing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xsunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsunny/gifts).



> Okay, so, this is my first time writing a fic in years. y e a r s. Please be gentle, but also, come at me with constructive criticism (or ideas on how to make Hux unhappy over the next few chapters.)

He was elated. Practically giddy. Hux allowed himself a private smile as he brushed down his uniform, pushed back his hair, and checked his reflection in his private refresher’s mirror. The smile faded as he caught sight of the fresh bruises on the left side of his face, almost reaching down as far as the dark purple bruise blooming on his neck which had become as much a part of his appearance as the constant shadows under his eyes. He turned away from his reflection quickly, disgusted, as ever, at Ren’s lack of self control. He supposed, the one benefit of Ren turning his unstable bouts of rage onto Hux meant that the ship had needed fewer repairs from his tantrums, but _really_ , did he always have to make such a mess. Hux sighed and left his quarters. Bruised or not, he had work to do, and he was looking forward to it.

Last night, as Ren had escorted him back to his quarters, as had become a stifling routine since Snoke’s death, he had tersely informed Hux that he had business on a nearby planet and would be absent for a few cycles. Hux had kept his expression carefully neutral, his mind carefully blank, even after he was notified that Ren had left the Finalizer. He had learnt quickly that being on constant guard was the safest option around Ren. Today, though, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts race. Finally, _finally_ , he had his ship to himself again. He could begin to undo some of the idiotic actions of the oversized child who insisted on being referred to as _Supreme Leader_.

He walked quickly towards the bridge. It would be a long day, and he was already sleep deprived and aching, but this period of Ren’s absence would be essential to get the First Order back on track. He needed to assess the loyalties on a few key officers, move funds around and send messages before removing any trace of his actions, and make sure that everyone on this ship, everyone in the First Order, knew that Hux had lost nothing of his resolve, in spite of what Ren would have had them believe. He knew he wasn’t the only one sick of Ren’s antics and less than happy to see him commanding the First Order. Compete mutiny, quiet, and quick, should be within his grasp by the time he left the bridge.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the two stormtroopers on guard moving to block his path as he walked towards the bridge.

He looked up, irritated.

“Yes?”

They shifted, nervously.

“Sir. Your access to the bridge has been revoked.”

Hux froze. He fixed the stormtrooper who had spoken with a cold glare.

“Let me through.”

“You are to report to the engineering department for duty.” 

Hux almost laughed. Cold fury bubbled within him. His expression stayed calm, though, and without letting this mockery continue any longer, he pushed past the two stormtroopers and walked onto the bridge. 

“Mitaka, have the stormtroopers on the door sent to reprogramming. They seem to have developed an unfortunate sense of humour.” He barked as soon as he was in the room.

The officer looked up at him with wide terrified eyes, but did not reply.

Hux sighed, pinching his nose, “Mitaka, that was an-“

He didn’t finish the sentence.

A heavy blow to his back knocked the air of him, and he fell to his knees. For an instance, panic flashed through him. Was Ren back already? Was he going to be choked in front of his officers and soldiers again while Ren watched impassively from a distance? The panic subsided almost as quickly as it came on. This has been a physical attack, it didn’t have that uneasy wrong feeling Hux felt whenever Ren used the force to hurt him.

He tried to stand up but the stormtroopers on either side held him down, their blasters a silent threat.

“Explain yourselves.” He hissed. He hoped, stupidly, someone else on the bridge would react to this obvious treachery, but when he looked around, no one was meeting his eyes. Even Mitaka, who he counted amongst those most loyal to him, was looking away.

“You do not have permission to be on this bridge. We will escort you to the engineering department, or to the cells if you refuse to cooperate.”

“I am your general.” Hux practically spat.

“No, you’re not.”

Hux’s eyes snapped up to Mitaka, who had spoken. The man looked queasy.

“In... in light of your failings on Starkiller Base and Crait, the supreme leader has relieved you of your duties as a general.”

“My failings?” Hux said, incredulously, before biting back the rest of what he wanted to say regarding the failings of their own self styled Supreme Leader. Whatever he had hoped to gain today, it was fast slipping through his fingers. He took a calming breath. He would have to bide his time, it would seem. Patience had always been one of his skills though. “I see. I am to work as an engineer, then?”

Mitaka visibly relaxed, obviously relieved that Hux wasn’t reacting to the news as violently as expected.

“Yes Gen- officer Hux.”

Hux stood up. The stormtroopers let him, but stayed close. With a small nod to Mitaka, he turned on his heal and left the bridge, flanked by the two stormtroopers.

His heart hammered in his chest but he would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him react to this humiliation. 

This was not how he had pictured today going. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, shame and anger welling up in him, and he swallowed it back down. He had spent years, his whole life, practically, climbing the ranks and working harder and smarter than everyone around him to get to where he had within the First Order. Ren might think that taking his rank away would strip Hux of any power, but having a title, a rank, wasn’t where Hux got his power from; he had reached his position through more strength and willpower than Ren could ever begin to muster. This was a setback, but he would still be standing when Ren had let his self destructive tendencies kill him. 

He’d have to change his plans accordingly, true, but mutinies could be started just as easily from the lower ranks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m half asleep and I will fix spelling and grammar tomorrow. Not all of us function as well on no sleep as Hux. Thank you everyone who has commented ;o; you are so lovely!

_Things always get worse before they get better._

Hux clung to that advice in the weeks that followed, though whether it was some reassurance he’d once received from Sloane when she’d taken him under her wing, or words spoken softly by his mother after he’d come home to her with yet another nosebleed or black eye, he can’t remember. 

He bided his time confident in the knowledge that when your enemy thinks that you’ve been beaten, subdued, they begin to underestimate you. You become invisible to them. It had been the case with the New Republic, even as the Starkiller’s weapon charged to blow the whole Hosnian System out of existence. It had been the case with Hux’s father, who thought himself ever in control, thought of Hux as still a scared little boy who would never dare to defy him. It would be the case with Ren.

In the days that followed the scene on the bridge, Hux was followed by whispers and glances. No one nodded or saluted as he passed them, no one so much as met his eye. Conversations died down into nothing when he was near, so he found himself at a loss for days at a time as to what was happening outside of the Finalizer. After he had first met his supervisor, a short, serious woman with grey hair who had the decency to appear just as horrified about the situation as Hux felt, she had sent his daily schedule straight to his data pad. He hadn’t talked to another person in nearly two weeks; it would have been enough to drive a lesser man crazy. 

Hux kept his head low, got on with the frankly ridiculous piles of work that greeted him at the start of each shift. He made a point of keeping his attention to detail even as he completed simple repair jobs well below his skill level. A lot of the work was manually exhausting, a lot of it was in places where people who had once been his officers, his coworkers, his allies would see him. He knew Ren wanted him humiliated, so he acted with constant composure, refused to rise to the bait. After a short while, rumours moved away from Hux and back onto Ren, and people became less aware of his presence as he worked. He started overhearing enough to piece together what had happened since he had been demoted.

The Resistance had disappeared from the First Order’s intelligence again, and had probably set up a new base by now. Rumours of the scavenger girl bringing together other Force users were creating an unsettling amount of hope across the galaxy. Previously subdued planets and systems were beginning to question the First Order, test its control, and instead of the First Order crushing these rumours by reinstating themselves as the dominant power in the Galaxy, Ren was fuelling their flames by chasing the scavenger like a love sick puppy, his duties as the Supreme Leader forgotten. 

Between jobs, Hux worked tirelessly to do what he could. He lost the sharp step and commanding stature he had worn as a General. Now was the time to be invisible. He would regularly check the hangar where Ren’s Fighter was still conspicuously absent, would slip into control rooms and observation decks, learning what he could and sending out coded messages, attempting to fix the First Order’s standing in any way possible, and of course sowing some seeds of discontent against Ren as he did so.

At the end of each long shift, he’d return to the ramshackle excuse of a room that his supervisor had led him to on that first day, designated to be his new quarters. It was so small it was almost certainly meant to be a storage closet, and consisted only of a thin mattress rolled out on the floor. There was no refresher to speak of, no little luxury whatsoever. He would lie awake, aching and exhausted, letting his composure crumble now he was hidden from prying eyes. Here, he would allow himself to feel the hollow hurt in his chest of everything he had lost so quickly, of everything he still stood to lose if Ren’s self destructive behaviour went too far and brought down the First Order with him.

 

-

 

The first he knew of Ren’s being back on board was when Hux arrived in an otherwise abandoned control deck do do some maintenance checks and a few small repairs. 

The room had been completely destroyed. Deep gashes tore through several consoles, some still smoked, and one spluttered and crackled angrily. The sickening smell of burnt metal and plastoid filled the air with noxious fumes. Hux closed his eyes in frustration. He was used to being the one cleaning up after Ren’s messes, but he’d never had to do it quite so literally before. He sent a few messages off to his supervisor informing her that he would need more time allocated here, and would need a maintenance droid on hand for the more dangerous repairs. As he pushed down his resentment and began working, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Ren had had this particular tantrum simply to spite him; the man had proven himself to be incredibly petty, after all. 

He worked in silence, no stormtroopers or officers wanted to be near the site of their Supreme Leader’s latest outburst. The only company he had was the occasional beeping from the droid whirring around him as it completed the tasks Hux delegated to it. After a few hours had passed, and the room more resembled a deck on a First Order flagship rather than an impressive collection of fire hazards, he stood up and stretched his back, working out a twinge in his neck that came from squinting at fragile, fiddly circuitry for too long. 

“General.” 

Hux stiffened minutely, inwardly bristling with contempt at the mockery, before forcing himself to relax. He turned to face Ren, who was lurking in the doorway, a scowl marring his scarred face.

“Good to have you back, Supreme Leader.” Hux said, “I see that chasing the scavenger girl didn’t go as well as you hoped. My condolences”

Expressions flitted across Ren’s face - confusion, hurt, self doubt, before being replaced by rage boiling over. Honestly, it was far too easy to wind the man up. No wonder he thought that demoting and mocking Hux would be enough to break him. 

Hux smiled at Ren, an ugly expression, lips curled upwards, before returning his attention to the work at hand. He didn’t so much as flinch when Ren snarled. Hux braced himself, but refused to look up, look scared. He would make it clear to Ren that he above these silly games and power plays.

The pain hit, like he knew it would, nauseating, ripping through his nerves, pressing into the bruises that had almost healed in Ren’s absence, tightening in that familiar way around his throat.

He struggled to breathe, uselessly, vaguely aware that his nose was bleeding. He tried to force air into his lungs, instead swallowing his own blood, and his entire awareness narrowed down to the pounding in his head, his chest, the ever tightening constriction around his tender throat and of the unnerving, invasive feeling as Ren’s consciousness pushed into his own.

For a split second, he saw himself, suspended in mid air, pathetically struggling. He noticed with a distant curiosity that might have been his own or might have been Ren’s that he looked so small, so strangely fragile, without his usual uniform and his coat. _So breakable._

With all of his strength, he pushed against Ren’s intrusion as it flooded over him, tried to ground himself in something, in anything, as his vision blurred with tears and his lungs burned. It was unbearable. Pushing against it just spurred Ren on. He changed tactics, desperate. He hid himself away in recesses of himself he’d nearly forgotten, and heard his mother, somewhere, muffled, singing.

He was alone in his head. Ren was gone.

Then the world went white.


	3. Chapter 3

Hux awoke in the Medbay, fighting his way up from a heavy, uncomfortable dream. When he resurfaced, he was greeted with a dull aching throughout his body and a fresh sense of determination. So much for staying under the radar to fix Ren’s mistakes. The man was clearly itching for a confrontation, and Hux refused to let Ren dictate the rules any longer.

He ignored the ringing in his head, the strange echoing memory of soft singing that lurked a little too close to the surface for comfort, the pain that lanced through his left leg and hip as he pushed himself up and onto his feet. He brushed away a stammering medic, dressed himself and made his way to the engineering department.

“Officer.” He greeted his supervisor, who was in conversation with two young, eager engineers who looked like they’d barely finished academy training.

She looked up, questioningly. “Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

He didn’t miss the way she stood a little straighter, eyes alert. Sal seemed, if anything, relieved that Hux’s act of meek subservience had come to an abrupt end. She waved away her underlings. They scurried off, looking more than a little unnerved by Hux’s proximity despite Ren’s attempt to rid him of any respect.

“My office.” She said, evenly.

Sal lead the way. He walked beside her, limping ever so slightly, and stared down any curious officers and troopers that chanced glances at him. It wasn’t far, but as the adrenaline began to settle and the meds wore off, he had to grit his teeth to stop himself hissing in agony with each step. 

As soon as her door closed before her, she saluted. “General.” When she said the word, it had none of the mocking undercurrent that Ren had laced it with. A small but not insignificant act of treachery, of treason. 

Hux cocked his head, studying her, unsure how far he was willing to trust a near complete stranger. He had already made up his mind, though, he knew some risks would have to be taken. Approaching any of his old acquaintances would immediately alert Ren to his actions, and the scene on the bridge had been too public a declaration on Ren’s behalf for any of the officers who had been present to even consider helping Hux. With a strange pang that had nothing to do with sentimentality and everything to do with feeling inconvenienced, Hux once again wished Phasma had survived the events on the Supremacy. 

To her credit, she held his gaze, kept her form.

“At ease.” He said, at last. A wave of nausea hit him, and he slumped slightly against the door frame. Sal looked briefly startled, before schooling her expression, and gesturing towards one of the two chairs. They both sat, and he steadied his breathing. If he wanted to get the upper hand against Ren, he would have to chance placing his trust in someone.

“I require your assistance.”

“Evidently.” She replied, leaning forward an inch. Hux almost smiled. There was an unmistakable glint of calculation in her eyes. 

“You will of course be rewarded for your loyalty during these... turbulent times.”

“Naturally.” She agreed, offering him a smile in return. 

The discussion was short, to the point. Hux laid out his plan, his requests. She listened silently, and supplied him with a list of her people whose allegiance towards Hux’s vision for the the First Order would outweigh their fear of the Supreme Leader. If she was true to her word, he had a handful of engineers and technicians at his disposal who could slip practically unnoticed into the most vulnerable parts of the Finalizer. If she wasn’t, well, he would have to find a way to use Ren’s rage and distraction to his advantage. It wasn’t like his situation could get much worse - better to act now before Ren accidentally killed him during one of his tantrums.

He left her office, having promised to gradually siphon off a portion of his personal savings to an account on a poor border planet once everything had died down. He hadn’t asked, because he knew she wouldn’t tell, but it was the sort of money that would offer a person or two the ability to start a new life somewhere more civilised. 

She had offered him admin duty for the rest of his shift, which would have been a kindness. Unfortunately, he knew any kindness shown to him publicly would not go well for either of them. They went their separate ways, and he set to work.

 

-

 

He fell into his makeshift bed hours later, hurting all over and feeling sick.

He slept restlessly, waking up over and over from not-quite-nightmares, heart hammering, breath caught in shallow hiccups, before succumbing again to sleep, too exhausted to lie awake.

Sometimes, in the spaces between dreaming and panicking, he heard singing, but he could never quite catch the words.

 

-

 

Ren didn’t come to throw him into a wall the next day, or tear through his thoughts. No stormtroopers came to escort him to the cells. Hux counted that as a victory.

He didn’t communicate with Sal again, directly. She sent him his schedule, and acted as if nothing had passed between them. As he worked away at his day to day schedule, he kept himself under the radar as around him the pieces fell in place for mutiny. 

In the days that followed, he got to know some of low ranked engineers that Sal had shown trust in. There was Yann, a large, quiet man who could pull off the most intricate of repairs, and had an attention to detail that Hux couldn't help but respect. He had been assigned to performing maintenance checks on Ren’s Fighter, but any sabotage would have to be held off until Ren next flew it, or else risk exposing Hux’s influence. Still, it was a useful place to have an ally. There was Jerich and Marie, the two young officers Hux had seen talking to Sal. They soon got over their nerves around him and proved their worth by getting his data pad properly functional again so he could access his accounts and keep track of what was happening outside of the Finalizer, as well as keep an eye on Ren’s own activities through access to recorded feeds from the bridge. Marie was entirely too cocky, and seemed to forget that Hux was still her General in all but title. Both she and Jerich seemed to take a liking to him for some reason he couldn’t fathom, and began taking their short lunch breaks with him. Yann would join them too, on occasion, and Hux began to almost enjoy the companionship of his fellow conspirators in spite of himself. It was definitely an improvement on the isolation Ren had initially banished him to. They would update him on their progress in hushed tones as they ate or worked together. Mostly, though, they just talked about nothing, about their childhoods or time at the academy, and Hux would listen. 

When his schedule forced him to share a space with Ren, the man practically ignored him. Hux would sometimes feel the ghost of a touch around his neck, but it was more a reminder than an outright attack. When Ren was angry, he would feel it constrict as he worked, making him lightheaded. He was never sure if the action was deliberate. He bit back the fear and revulsion and hatred that would bubble inside him at these times, knowing that it was best to stay silent, to keep his mind empty until he was safely out of Ren’s reach.

Soon, everything would be in place for him to stage a public attack on Ren’s leadership. Messages had been sent out to engineers across the First Order gauging the sentiment towards Ren, and, as Hux had expected, few were happy with their current leadership. He knew that when he acted, others would support him, would follow him. For now, though, all was calm. He relaxed into his new routine, ever so slightly. He would allow himself small smiles as Jerich and Marie wound each other up and laughed over their lunches, took pleasure in watching Yann work tirelessly, thoughtful and methodical and thorough. Hux wondered if any of them would survive the storm that lay ahead; he doubted they would. 

He wondered if he would feel guilty in the aftermath. 

He doubted that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some wild OCs appeared! They might all die next chapter *shrugshrug*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for blood play near the end of the chapter.

Everything was set. 

Hux woke up two hours before his shift. He went into the communal ‘fresher nearest his quarters. It was early enough that those who shared his early shift weren’t yet crowding it out. Normally, he would be trying his best to make himself small and inconspicuous as officers jostled for space, tensing whenever anyone brushed near him. Today, he took his time, washing his hair and doing his best to style it without his usual products. It fell in his eyes, but he still felt more himself, a little piece of his armour restored.

He headed to the Engineering division’s common space, where Marie was sat drinking Caf, food ignored. She pushed a second cup towards him as he sat down, offering him a weak smile. He could feel the anxiety coming off her in waves; he was almost certain that across the ship, Ren would be able to feel it too if he knew what to look for.

“Are you ready?” She asked. Neither of them seemed to be able to stomach actual food.

“Of course. Are you?” 

She nodded, and continued in a hushed tone.

“The comms override is set up for you to address the fleet once he’s gone. Jerich will have a shuttle ready for you.”

He nodded, and drained the rest of his Caf.

News had filtered down to their division that the officials, nobles and senior officers within the First Order had invited the new Supreme Leader to a conference on a neutral cruiser near Centax-3 to begin negotiations for the surrender of the core planets. Ren would be leaving later today. It gave Hux no small amount of joy to imagine Ren being forced to deal with politics, but if everything went to plan, he would never arrive. This morning, during his routine checks, Yann would be putting the finishing touches on a tricky fault within Ren’s Fighter that would be practically unnoticeable until Ren jumped to light speed, at which point it would knock out the the engines and disable the comms and tracking device. Nothing so dramatic as to kill him out in the expanse of space, or at least, not give him a quick death. Ren would simply disappear from the First Order’s tracking, and to anyone else it would simply appear that Ren was shirking his obligations again, or was on another impulsive wild goose chase across the Galaxy. Hux would then broadcast his claim at leadership, taking advantage of the ensuing confusion and power vacuum to reinstate himself as acting Supreme Leader in Ren’s absense, before making his way to the conference to cement his relations with the powerful players of the First Order.

If Ren reappeared, it would be to the First Order under Hux’s command. The man would be thrown immediately into a cell, or publicly executed as a traitor.

If not… well. Hux enjoyed the thought of Ren, all alone except for his rage during his last few hours alive. It was nothing less than the man deserved.

Jerich and Yann came for their breakfasts as Marie and Hux got up to leave. He nodded at Yann, who returned the gesture, serious as ever, silently confirming that his part of the mutiny had been completed. As they passed each other, Marie reached out to stop Jerich, leaning in to murmur something. Hux averted his eyes as they touched hands, before stepping away from each other. When he looked at her, sideways, as they made their way towards their first job of the day, he saw a tender expression on Marie’s face that made his stomach lurch with an uncomfortable feeling that he couldn’t quite place.

 

-

 

“The Supreme Leader requests your presence” A stormtrooper told him, impassively, a few hours into his shift.

His stomach dropped. Of course, _of course_ , someone had betrayed him. Across the deck from where she was working, Marie did not look up at him. Had it been her? Jerich? Yann? Sal? Or had he simply made a mistake, acted too quickly and too rashly in his desperation to get his position back? He pushed down the terror and frustration as he let the ‘trooper lead him through the long corridors of the Finalizer. Being emotional would do nothing to help him. Until he knew how much Ren knew, he had to keep everything guarded under a calm composure. Something of this mutiny could still be salvaged.

The stormtrooper led him to what had been his office, and the door opened before them. He knew it had been coming, but he inwardly bristled to see Ren in _his_ chair, behind _his_ desk.

He stepped inside, and the door closed shut behind him.

“Supreme Leader.”

“Hux.”

The silence stretched, Ren watching him, probing through his thoughts with a curiously gentle touch.

“Get out of my head.” He ordered.

To his surprise, Ren complied.

“You requested my presence?” Hux prompted. He wanted this over with.

“It seems I underestimated your worth.”

Well. That wasn’t what he had been expecting.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?”

“I underestimated your worth, Hux.” Ren gritted out.

“Are you apologising to me?”

A muscle in Ren’s cheek ticked.

“No. You have made no attempt to hide your contempt of me, you undermined my authority from the moment I succeeded Snoke. I simply-”

Ren broke off. 

“You simply what?” Hux prompted again, exasperated.

“It seems that I could use your assistance in matters of… politics.”

Hux almost snorted. So Ren, the feared Supreme Leader, was scared of having to put on something a bit more formal than his usual ridiculous robes and talk to those who remained from the days of the Empire, the politicians, benefactors and sycophants. It didn’t surprise Hux, the man was only good for hitting things with his saber, he had no subtlety, no strategy, no niceties to speak of.

“I shall be happy to help you, Supreme Leader, in exchange for proper compensation.” 

“You act as if you have a choice over the matter.” Ren’s lips curled, and for the first time since he had stepped into the office, Hux felt tendrils of energy close in around his throat. A threat. His resolve only grew, though.

“You are to reinstate me, you are to allow me to rule the First Order equally with you, seeing as you are obviously unable to do it alone.”

Ren studied him quietly, the the grip left Hux’s throat.

“I can’t.” Ren said softly.

“You _can’t._ ” Hux repeated.

“I would seem weak.”

“Which you are.” Hux countered.

The effect was instantaneous. Ren trembled with barely suppressed rage, and Hux was thrown backwards against the closed door. He slumped to the floor as Ren towered over him.

“You will help me, Hux.”

Hux pushed himself to his feet. He looked Ren square in the eye, and couldn’t hold down the anger and frustration any longer. He spat, deliberately, into the man’s face, and turned to leave.

There was a moment when Ren froze in shock, and then the inevitable came, he flew fowards, closing one hand around Hux’s throat, pinning Hux’s arms behind him so he couldn’t fight back. Hux didn’t struggle as the world closed in around him, but whether this was because he was too stubborn to give Ren the satisfaction, or because he was just far too exhausted, neither of them could tell.

 

-

 

It was raining outside and his mother was singing.

He had fallen asleep in the kitchen and she was scooping him up to take him to his bed. 

He shifted in his sleep and she soothed him.

“I’ve got you, Armitage. Go back to sleep. You’re safe.”

Her singing and the rainfall became the same noise, indistinguishable. He opened his eyes and hey were outside. Instead of taking him to his bed, she was taking him to a ship. He could see his father waiting. He tried sleepily to wake up, he didn’t want to go, not there, not with _him_.

She cooed and hushed him, and told him he needed to be brave for her, and sung the soft wordless song until he fell back into a troubled sleep.

 

-

 

“Hux. Wake up.”

“Ren?”

Hux open his eyes, blearily, disorientated, and sat up. His head swam.

“Where are we?”

“On course for The Coruscant System.”

“We’re on your Fighter?”

“Yes.”

Hux fell back down into a lying position. He didn’t believe in a lot of the ridiculous religious aspects of the Force, but sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that fate was playing a particularly cruel game with him.

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been summoned by the senior officers of the First Order.” Ren replied, as if speaking to a child.

“I know that. Why am I coming with you?”

“I... you said, before, you said you wanted to be my equal. I need you.”

Hux sat up, and looked at Ren again. The vulnerability in the man’s face took him aback.

“You’ll reinstate me?”

“Yes. General.”

Hux breathed in quickly. 

“Will you help me?” Ren’s voice was so earnest, so hopeful. 

Hux watched the emotions flash across Ren’s face. He didn’t need the Force to be able to read the man like a book, saw the fear of abandonment, the hurt of reaching out and asking for help and being denied again and again. It thrilled Hux to see Ren with his defences down, his insecurities laid bare. This was a _much_ better plan than mutiny. If he offered Ren the kindness he obviously needed so badly, gained his loyalty, kept him as an attack dog on a short leash, then it would only be a matter of time until the Galaxy fell under Hux’s control.

“Yes. I’ll help you.” 

Relief washed over Ren’s features, a tentative smile flitting across his face.

He turned to press a few buttons at the console, and Hux froze as he remembered the fault.

“Ren, wait-” He began, but it was too late. 

All at once, a lot of things happened in quick succession.

Ren turned to him, mouth opened, question never coming out.

They jumped to light speed.

The engine sputtered and died, knocking them out of light speed with a lurch.

Ren’s eyes widened in confusion, in hurt, in anger.

A number of buzzes and bleeps and wails sounded as the ship complained at the loss of a number functions, before those too cut off and they were shrouded in darkness and silence.

Hux found himself pinned down by the familiar pressure around his bruised throat. He heard the crackle of Ren’s lightsaber, and the small shuttle was bathed in its wavering red glow.

“ _You betrayed me._ ” If Hux was capable of feeling remorse, he might have felt it now at the defeat in Ren’s voice. He did not feel anything.

“To be fair,” Hux choked out. “You betrayed me first. What exactly were you expecting to happen, Ren?”

Ren snarled and threw him across the small shuttle.

Hux’s body made contact with the wall; what little air he had left in his lungs was knocked out of him. He crumpled where he fell, breathing shallowly against the constant pressure on his neck, not moving, not seeing the point in extending the effort. He heard Ren check the engines, bring on some backup power which bathed the shuttle in a sickly half light. He could feel Ren’s anger growing dangerously as he tried the comms to find them silent, found the navigation entirely down. Hux felt a small amount of spiteful happiness as he watched realisation dawn on Ren.

“What did you do, Hux?”

“Me, personally? Nothing. The troopers knew better than to let me anywhere near your personal Fighter.”

“Fix this.”

“Ask nicely.” Hux chided.

Hux tensed as Ren lifted him up via the Force grip around his neck, pulling his limp body close to him, so that they were eye to eye. He dangled in mid air, lifting his hands to uselessly tear at grip on his throat, but of course there was nothing there to tear away. Ren watched him struggle, tightening the grip, before throwing him across the shuttle again. Hux laughed dryly, silently, as he hit the floor, half at his own terrible luck, half because at least part of his plan would work, Ren would die out here, alone, in a fit of rage. He let his body relax as his lungs burned, readied himself for his inevitable death at the hands of Kylo Ren.

Ren closed the distance between them, lightsaber gripped tightly. All the objects not fully attached to a console were flung around the small space, a whirlwind around the two of them. Hux looked up, coughing and laughing and heaving. The lightsaber flickered out, and Ren knelt down before Hux’s prone form.

“You will fix this, Hux.”

Hux felt the grip on his throat loosen.  
“You still think I can intimidated by _you_?” Hux sneered, voice dry and scratching.

Ren scowl deepened and the objects still circling them began to fly directly at Hux while Ren watched on.

“I can make you obey.”

Hux didn’t reply, he simply curled in on himself, the need to protect himself finally outweighing his wish to appear unaffected in front of Ren.

All at once, the barrage of pain stopped. Hux cracked open an eye to see Ren still kneeling over him, looking savage, breathing heavy, a trapped beast. Hux lifted his hand to a point of bright throbbing on his arm, looking with a strange distance at the shard of glass lodged there. Ren followed the movement, and his hand covered over Hux’s, lifting it away so as to reach the shard. With a sharp twist, he pulled it out, eyes flickering between Hux’s face and the swell of blood. He brushed his other hand against it, the blood blotting against the leather of his glove.

Hux shivered in spite of himself. The action almost felt tender, a caress after so much brutality. The image of Marie touching Jerich’s hand came to his mind, unbidden.

Ren pressed his finger down into the bleeding wound and Hux yelped out. 

His vision swam, and he distantly felt Ren’s straddling him. Weakly, he attempted to buck the larger man off of him to find his body was completely pinned down, though whether by Ren’s weight, use of the Force, or his own exhausted muscles refusing to obey him anymore, he couldn’t tell. 

He looked up as Ren eased the pressure on the wound.

“Do I have to intimidate you, Hux?” Ren murmured, voice low and dangerous.

Hux swallowed. For once, no sharp retort came to mind.

He closed his eyes, felt the cold press of glass against the bruised mess of his throat, skimming the sensitive skin but not cutting. He hoped this would be it, that Ren would put him out of his misery.

Above him, Ren laughed.

“Nothing so easy as that.”

Hux swallowed again, feeling the glass press in harder as his adam’s apple bobbed beneath it.

Ren mapped Hux’s jawline with the glass, pressing it in near his left ear.

Hux hissed in pain as Ren dragged the shard in a ragged line across his face to just below his right eye, feeling the hot blood well up.

With his free hand, Ren traced the fresh wound, first gentle, then with increasing pressure as Hux writhed uselessly beneath him.

Again and again, he dragged the glass over Hux’s body, his face, his hands, each time, touching the wound with the reverence of a lover before finding ways to draw as much pain from it as possible. If Hux hadn’t been lost in a haze of agony, he’d have almost admired the self control Ren was showing.

Hux didn’t know when he started crying, nor when he started begging. He only knew that finally, Ren was gone and he was alone on the floor, bleeding, bruised, but still alive.

The man returned with a glass of water, offering it to Hux. The thought to refuse it never occurred to him, Kriff, he was thirsty.

Ren watched him drain the glass.

“Will you fix my Fighter?”

Hux nodded, the movement so small as to be nearly imperceptible.

“I’ll try,” he conceded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal.)
> 
> Kylo, that is not how you apologise. 
> 
> Thank you all for the Kudos and comments! And thank you to xsunny for spurring me on with lots of evil ideas 🌸🌸🌸


	5. Chapter 5

After Hux had agreed to help him, the rage went out of Ren. He hovered over Hux, looming until Hux snapped at him to get out of his light, passing tools and offering water as the other man worked. Hux shivered slightly as he worked, hissing whenever he opened up one of his new wounds as he crawled around the underbelly of the Fighter, trying to undo the intricate damage Yann had done. 

Ren was blessedly silent, though Hux felt the constant disquieting pressure of him sifting through his thoughts. He didn’t have the energy to fight back against the intrusion anymore. In some ways, it was convenient. Ren didn’t waste time in locating the names and faces of Hux’s small band of conspirators, so there would be no need for him to torture the information out of him later. It also meant Ren knew exactly what Hux needed of him, when to get out of the way and let Hux work, when to help hold together some component that threatened to break with the strain that was being put on the small shuttle. An outsider could almost have mistaken their shared silence as companionable.

After a few hours, the combination of stress, lack of sleep and fresh wounds were taking their toll on Hux. Half awake, he felt himself being scooped up gently. He tensed, but he had no fight left in him.

“Show me what to do.” Ren instructed, as he lowered Hux into the pilot’s seat.

Hux blinked blearily, half asleep, and let his eyes close.

“Show me.” Ren repeated, voice firm.

Hux opened his eyes again, seeing Ren’s frown. He was fast losing track of the situation he was in, sleep washing over him in waves. He pushed his fingers into a cut on his right palm to keep himself awake, and projected the images of how to get the shuttle running again to Ren, or at least, his best ideas. Ren nodded, and ducked below the grating, picking up where Hux had left off.

“Careful, Ren, try not to make things worse.” Hux reminded, voice cracked and quiet, as the world shifted uneasily around him.  
He heard Ren hum, and then dreams overtook him. 

 

-

 

It was raining again, hot and humid, and below his feet, everything was falling apart.

He was in a forest, running, tripping over himself, feet slipping in cascades of muddy water, getting caught in the undergrowth, and somewhere, nearby, someone was calling out to him. Not with words, not exactly. He was nearly there. A little further. Just across the yawning chasm that had cracked the ground in two. He steadied himself, his racing heart, and made to leap.

The moment his feet left the ground, he was being picked up, something lifting him - too-quickly yanking him up. Branches snapped against his skin as he rushed upwards, slicing and cutting him, and he fought, desperately. He needed to be down there. Someone needed him. Suddenly, he was above the canopy, in the storm itself, amid deafening thunder and a wordless, terrifying song, and whoever he had been looking for was lost. 

He started crying, so utterly lost.

Tears blurred his vision; the world shifted strangely.

He was in a shuttle. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t understand why he had to be here, not really. A large man was shouting at him, hand gripped bruisingly tight around one of Hux’s wrists, telling his he was pathetic, to stop crying. Hux cried harder, trying uselessly to pull his arm away.

The man spat at him, and let go. Hux staggered back, unable to rebalance before the man threw his fist at Hux, knocking him back so that he fell out of the shuttle, falling back into the forest below. Down, past the sharp scratch of branches again, hurtling down, faster and faster, terrified and tiny and lost and the ground racing to meet him, but towards that thing calling him-

 

-

 

Hux woke, heart hammering in his chest and unable to breath.

The shuttle was still dimly lit, but they were moving. As his eyes adjusted, he could see Ren looking down at him, frowning.

The terror of the dream clung to him. He pushed his fingers into the sore mess of his palm again, letting the pain bring him fully back into reality. Once his breathing was in control, he fixed Ren with a cold stare.

“How much did you see?” Hux asked.

“Everything.” Ren replied, simply, apparently unashamed of eves-dropping on Hux’s nightmares.

“If you tell _anyone_ what you just saw-” Hux’s voice faltered and failed as Ren touched his face, gloved hand tracing the fresh scar there.

“That was your father?” Ren asked, though Hux doubted he needed the confirmation so didn’t offer it. “You are more resilient than he gave you credit for.”

Hux jerked away.

“I don’t need reassurance, Ren.” He said, voice quiet and cold. “Especially not from you.”

Ren ignored him, taking his glove off to press a cold hand to Hux’s forehead.

Hux froze, but the skin to skin contact was brief, gone in a moment.

Ren continued to frown down at him.

“You have a fever.”

Hux snorted. “And whose fault is that?”

“I’ll have a med droid see to you when we arrive.” Ren said, turning away, voice losing the warm edge of concern.

“Arrive?” Hux asked, throat constricting. As unstable as Ren was, they seemed to have come to a sort of truce, out here, alone. He doubted he would be allowed the same courtesy once they were amongst the First Order again.

“We’ve resumed course for Centax-3. She can’t manage the whole way at light speed, but we’ll arrive just in time to miss the opening introductions. Pity.”

“Ah.” Hux swallowed. “Am I to be... aiding you?”

“You’re a mess.” Ren replied, dismissively. Hux took that to mean no.

Hux bristled. The man was infuriating.

“Yes,” he snapped. “Thank you for that.”

Ren seemed untouched.

“Come on.” He said “Up. I need my seat back to make the landing approach.”

Hux flushed as he realised he was still in Ren’s seat, it felt uncomfortably intimate.

He stood, trying to suppress the shiver as his body complained at the movement. He stepped behind Ren’s seat, his hands held behind his back, worrying the wound on his right palm but otherwise still, the picture of military obedience. Ren shot him an amused look, but didn’t say anything else as they slowed with a slight stutter of the engines, and docked in the waiting space station.

A commotion met them in the hangar. Hux hung back, but Ren placed a hand in the small of his back, forcing him off shuttle alongside him. He felt the eyes on him immediately, on the wounds, on Ren’s casually possessive touch. He kept his eyes down, feeling hot and clammy and ashamed of being seen in this state. The conversation happened around him, pleasantries that Ren stumbled through, before issuing the orders to arrest the engineers Hux had left back on the Finalizer. Hux could feel the tension in the air, and was certain many of the officials gathered were not pleased that their Supreme Leader had returned so quickly from his short disappearance. Finally, the greetings were over and Ren dismissed their greeting party.

“Ren.” Hux hissed, angrily, about to admonish the man for this fresh humiliation.

“Can you walk?” Ren interrupted, still all mock concern and gentleness.

Hux paled as he remembered Ren holding his exhausted body in the shuttle. He scowled. He would not allow that to happen here. He nodded, sharply, ignored the fever that was spreading through his body, the shivering that he couldn’t manage to hold back any longer.

Ren led the way, hand never leaving the small of Hux’s back as they walked the long corridors. Hux’s awareness flitted in and out, and for the most part he focused on placing one foot in-front of the other, letting Ren’s touch guide him and support him when his legs felt weak enough to give out. He hated having to rely on the man for anything, but now was the time for self preservation, not for pride.

A door whirred open, at last, and Hux allowed Ren to lead him to a large bed.

“Where are we?” He asked, disorientated. He had expected a cell, or a medbay. He blinked around at the spacious room.

“My quarters, for the duration of our stay.” Ren replied, as he strode over to the kitchenette.

Hux’s blood went cold. He wondered if it was too late to ask for a cell instead.

“Relax.” Ren instructed, reading Hux’s panic from across the room. “I’ll be too busy to spend much time in here, anyway. Try to get some rest.”

Hux, for once, obeyed Ren without further question, exhausted, exasperated, sweating coldly and trembling.

“Here.” Ren said, pushing a glass of water into Hux’s hands.

With that, the Supreme Leader left the room, and Hux was left with only his feverish thoughts for company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this just turn into really weird sick fic? I think it did. Woops.
> 
> Kylo might be feeling a little guilty. Wonder how long that'll last.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh sorry for the long wait! Had some issues with health recently and also some making some big life changes soon so have been lacking in time and energy. Hope this chapter is coherent, if it’s not then let’s pretend that’s a stylistic decision :I 
> 
> Thanks for the all the support! You are all lovely!

Hux closed his eyes, breathing heavily, panic swelling within him as he heard the door click shut behind Ren. He needed to get up, to get out of this room, to get far away from this moon, from the First Order. He couldn’t afford to fall asleep, not here, not now. Yet, the bed was soft beneath him, and when he sipped at the water it soothed his parched throat. It had been so long since he had slept properly, and he was in no condition to escape. Even as his panicked brain begged his body to _move_ , the waves of nausea and exhaustion lapped over Hux, dragging him under into a heavy, restless sleep. He was vaguely aware of the glass slipping from his hand, spilling, as the the half formed dreams rose to meet him.

First, rain, just rain, and no singing this time. An endless storm.

Lightning.

Flashes of his father’s anger, drunken violence, but worse, the constant cold disappointment. Hux fought the urge to curl inwards at the knowledge he would never be enough, instead he lashed out, shouted, tried to attack the man, but his father turned away, dismissing Hux. 

When the rain stopped, Hux left his shuttle to find himself Yann, Marie and Jerich on board the Finalizer and, weakened as he was, and so joyous to have company other than Ren, he laughed with them, delirious, body heaving before sobering up to find himself in the still empty quarters, his tears sticking to his hot cheeks.

Hux couldn’t keep track of time. Where was Ren? How long had he been here? He finally pushed himself from the bed and stumbled over to the door. It was locked. The override codes he could still remember through the haze of fever dreams didn’t  
Work. He ran a hand through the limp curly mess of his hair, feeling the sweat clinging to his forehead. He slumped to the floor and made himself small, shivering all the time.

Another dream, and Ren was back in the room with him, taking the image of Phasma from his head until he couldn’t remember what she looked like below her mask, of the sound of her voice, and Hux was looking down as she burned up into nothingness.

Hux let out a choked cry, and he was back in bed, shivering harder than ever, and there was blood on the sheets. Ren was no where to be seen. He stared upwards for a long time, trying to remember Phasma, and welcomed the undercurrent of dreams when they came to pull him elsewhere.

His father again. He was crying. Hux had never seen him cry.

When he next woke, a med droid was running tests on him. He tried to brush it off and it gave an indignant whistle. It administered something soothing over his wounds, and gave him an injection that knocked Hux out cold.

For a while, nothing but space, cavernous and calm.

“Hux.”

Hux flinched, small, scared, looking up as his father lurched over him out from the darkness, breath stinking of alcohol, eyes bright with rage, the way they got whenever the man started reminiscing about the Empire. Hux braced himself, waiting to be hit, waiting to be told off. When it didn’t come straight away, he just started shaking harder.

“Hux.” Louder, this time.

He could hear his mother singing to drown out the horrible, angry voice. It terrified him. He hated when she sung in resistance to his father. Those small rebellions only made the anger worse. 

“Please,” he whimpered. “Please, don’t. I promise to be good. Don’t hurt me.”

A hand wrapped around his wrist and he felt himself being pulled up.

“Don’t, please, don’t-” he babbled, eyes clenched shut.

The hand let go, abruptly, and Hux curled in on himself, sobs wracking his frame.

“Hux?” The voice was soft, curious. Not the harsh tone of his father.

Hux opened his eyes.

Ren was sat on the bed, dark eyes fixed on Hux, wide with wonder. 

“You were dreaming of your father again.”

Hux didn’t reply, simply flinching away when Ren reached out to hold his hand against his head again.

“The droid will have taken my temperature, Ren,” Hux informed him, tersely.

Ren simply hummed in that distracted way, keeping his cool palm flat against Hux’s sweating forehead, and pushed himself into Hux’s thoughts.

“Show me how you killed him.” Ren asked.

“I didn’t.” Hux said, coldly, even as the shiver that ran through his body betrayed him.

“You’re lying.” Ren pushed.

Hux sighed. As he had too often recently, he went for the path of least resistance and let the memories float to the surface for Ren to witness: meeting with Phasma in private, reviewing the report, the cementing act of the closest thing he’d ever had to friendship. He hadn’t feel anything over his father’s death, no remorse, no joy, just a cold sense of achievement. He had seen the state Ren had been after his own act of patricide, and felt a small sense of smugness that where Ren had lost control, Hux had remained focussed.

Ren withdrew from Hux’s thoughts, and cocked his head to one side

“Is that how you would have had me killed? At an order, at another’s hands?” Ren asked, voice low and dangerous.

Hux couldn’t hold back the shiver, but he didn’t see the point in lying. “Yes.”

“I would want to kill you with my hands around your throat,” Ren mused, voice detached. However, as he reached to run a finger along the bruise still bright on Hux’s neck, his eyes belied an intensity that scared Hux far more than the idle threats could. “But public executions are much neater. Do try to get better before we return to the Finalizer.”

Hux pushed Ren’s hand away, coldly, and sat up abruptly.

“If I’m a prisoner, treat me like one. At least give me the dignity of a cell rather than keeping me here like some kind of pet,” he snapped. When Ren made no move to reply or react, Hux pushed back the covers and made to leave the bed.

Before he had both feet on the floor, Hux felt the familiar, uneasy sensation of the Force wrapping around him, around his wrists and torso and pushing him back down onto the bed.

“Rest.” Ren ordered.

Shivering against the touch of Ren’s Force, and now too angry to give into exhaustion, Hux fought the invisible bonds.

Ren watched, apparently mildly amused. He pressed a gloved hand to Hux’s forehead.

“Sleep, Hux.”

Hux tried to spit out a retort, but as his mouth opened, sleep poured in, drowning him, and Ren drifted out of sight.


	7. Chapter 7

A metallic crash tore Hux from his dreamless sleep.

Disorientated, he tried to sit.

The room was red.

He couldn’t move.

A sharp noise to his right, and Hux would have flinched hard if he could.

Panic flashed through him as the noise of destruction surrounded him.

He couldn’t even move his head. 

He stared straight up, eyes fixed in place, bracing himself for the blow, accidental or deliberate, of Ren’s saber. His body stayed perfectly still. His heart stayed slow, his breaths stayed even. 

On the ceiling, he could see the unstable glare of Ren’s lightsaber, flickering, casting wavering shadows that leapt around the room as Ren struck every available surface. 

The heat of the weapon and the heavy blankets were stifling. He longed to move, to run, to flee, but he was held down even as Ren raged around him.

Eventually, unable to act on the instinctual fear coursing through him, the panic burnt itself out, and Hux felt a strange calm settle in its place.

It took him a moment to realise that Ren’s anger had also calmed. The sounds of destruction had stopped, replaced by heavy breathing.

Hux turned towards the noise, and found himself free from Ren’s grasp. He gingerly rubbed at his wrists, finding them tender. Slowly, so as to not startle Ren into reigning down yet more destruction, Hux pushed back the covers, stood up and brushed himself down. He noted that his cuts were healing, and his fever was broken. As much as he loathed to admit it, the forced rest Ren had put him through had done the trick.

He crossed the space to where the Supreme Leader knelt, crumbled in on himself, on the floor, dark hair falling in front of his face, hands trembling on the now unlit saber.

“Did it not go well?” He sneered down at Ren. “Did they find you lacking? Such a shock. You always struck me as a wonderful conversationalist.”

“Quiet.” The word fell from Ren’s mouth, not so much a threat as a plea.

Hux smirked. He brushed Ren’s hair out of his face, seeing the expression of shame and humiliation burning there.

“You’re pathetic.”

Ren stared down, ever the stubborn child, refusing to meet Hux’s gaze.

“Do you need me to step in and fix it for you, Supreme Leader? It’s not too late to ask nicely.”

Hux could see the anger course through Ren, the way his hand tightened on the saber, the tensing of his jaw. He held back a flinch, but Ren stayed down, his shoulders slumped again, and the saber dropped uselessly to the floor. Hux looked down in disgust. How could this mess of a man have reduced him to tears? To begging? 

Without any real thought about what he was doing, he lowered a hand to Ren’s neck.

“Well?” Hux asked.

When Ren offered no reply, Hux wrapped his hand around the man’s throat, bruisingly tight, pouring all his frustration and anger into the act. A petty revenge, perhaps, but he needed it. Their last conversation rung in his head. He’d never considered choking someone to death, he had thought himself above getting his own hands dirty, but he couldn’t deny how powerful he felt, standing over Ren like this.

Hux tightened his grip, angling Ren’s head so the man was forced to look up at him. He could see the same openness, vulnerability that Ren had revealed to him in the shuttle. Ren’s hand came up to touch his own, not to fight him off, but simply resting on the back of the hand that was depriving him of air.

Hux could hear his own breathing grow heavy even as Ren’s shallow, shuddering attempts to pull in air became quieter.

Then, the strange invasive feeling of Ren pushing into his mind and two words burnt into him, Ren’s voice clear and broken.

_I’m sorry._

Hux let go as if he’d been burned. Ren fell forwards, pulling in deep breaths. Hux took a step back, then turned on his heel. He found the locking system on the door broken. He stepped over the debris, wrinkling his nose, and stepped outside.

“Hux-,” Ren’s voice followed him, hoarse and desperate. 

Hux continued walking at a fast pace, not looking back, not slowly, nor breaking into a run. He knew it wouldn’t make a difference. 

He’d made it maybe halfway along the corridor when he felt the presence of Ren’s Force wrap around him, tight around his throat, forcing him to stumble to his knees as his wrists and ankles were clasped together. A moment later, he saw the hem of Ren’s robe swirl past him, and then he was being dragged behind the man as if being yanked on an invisible lead. In a haze of oxygen deprivation, Hux was vaguely aware of the scrape of the floor opening his newly healed cuts as Ren lead them to the hangar. By the time he was dropped unceremoniously on the floor of the Shuttle, still bound by invisible ties, he was bleeding again, and could feel fresh bruises blooming on his knees, his arms, his back.

Hux lay still as the shuttle left the hangar and jumped to lightspeed. When Ren came to sit by his side, Hux held his gaze. Ren had shown his weakness to Hux more than once now. It thrilled Hux. He wanted to see how far this vulnerability ran. 

Even like this, with Hux bound and helpless, Ren looked nervous, ashamed, terrified of judgement. It was almost funny. It gave Hux no small amount of pleasure than Ren was the first to look away, standing up to move around the shuttle, out of sight.

Hux watched, curious, as Ren returned with a medkit. Ren knelt over Hux, hands hovering over the buttons of the overalls Hux was wearing, and looked up questioningly.

“May I?” Ren asked, softly.

Hux did laugh then. Seeing someone so powerful, so unrestrained, ask permission, after everything he had done. It was surreal. Hux weighed up his options. He didn’t relish the idea of being naked in front of the other man, it made him feel far too vulnerable. On the other hand, he refused to show any more weakness after the state Ren had seen him in during the fever. Besides, the overalls were cut from Ren’s torture, and drenched in the sweat from Hux’s fever.

Hux nodded, jaw set, eyebrow lifted in a challenge.

Ren swallowed, his face a little flushed, and set to work. He unbuttoned the overalls, pushing them off Hux without ceremony, neither gently nor roughly. Once Hux was just in his boxers, Ren unpacked the medkit, and cleaned each cut, first the ones which had begun bleeding again, and then the ones which were already half healed. He then moved onto the bruises, rubbing a balm into Hux’s ankles, his wrists, his neck. The entire time, he would glance nervously at Hux, as if seeking approval. Each time, Hux would offer a nod, and nothing more. At first, he had to force himself to not balk or flinch away at each gentle touch, but after some time, it actually felt good to be bathed in attention. When he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was someone else, someone touching him in adoration, not whatever strange obsessive feeling it was that Ren harboured towards him.

The fingers on his bruises neck stilled, and Hux opened his eyes.

Ren was looking down at him, a tender expression in the dark eyes.

Hux jerked away from Ren’s touch, suddenly uncomfortable at the realisation that he had shown too much of his own vulnerability.

Ren’s face clouded.

A moment of strained silence passed between them.

“You’ll receive a cell on the Finalizer.” Ren eventually said, evenly. “You will await your execution there.”

Hux nodded, and sighed, and let his head fall back.

Ren huffed and stood up abruptly. He returned shortly with a clean uniform, which he left by Hux without a word.

Hux dressed himself, watching warily as Ren returned to his seat. He felt a cold weight in the pit of his stomach. Ren had withdrawn the moment he had. Any hopes of using the Supreme Leader’s vulnerability to change his fate had slipped out of his grasp when he had broken the contact between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what i'm doing ?????????? I think we're nearing the bit where Poe appears though ~


	8. Chapter 8

Hux didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke, Ren was standing above him. Hux caught some complex emotion flicker over the man’s ever expressive face before settling into something more impassive, guarded. 

“Get up,” Ren ordered, voice low.

When Hux, still foggy with fast fading dreams of rainstorms, didn’t immediately obey, he was yanked upwards, the grip of Ren’s Force brutally tight around his neck. Hux’s hands fluttered up to his neck on impulse as Ren turned away from him and returned to his seat. Darkness clouded his vision as he heard the sounds of the shuttle docking into the Finalizer, and cold dread pressed in on him. His hands dropped to his side. 

Just as he had on Centax-3, Ren forced Hux off of the shuttle ahead of him, hand in the small of his back, as if the chokehold of the Force wasn’t enough to ensure Hux’s compliance. Once in the hangar, Hux was shoved to his knees, and he felt Ren’s hand settle into his hair in a loose grip. Anger flared up inside him at this new humiliating display of possessiveness. When he chanced a glance up, he saw familiar faces of officers, and a vast number of masked stormtroopers. His eyes briefly met Mitaka’s, who made no effort to conceal his pity and horrified concern. Face flushing from embarrassment, anger, and lack of oxygen, Hux dropped his head again.

“Supreme Leader.” A high ranking officer greeted Ren, audibly terrified that one wrong step would put him in Hux’s position. “I trust your journey was safe. Welcome back aboard.”

Hux eyes flickered up to look at the woman who had spoken. She was pointedly not acknowledging his presence. He dropped his eyes again before he met someone else’s gaze, neck prickling at the feeling of Mitaka still staring at him. 

Ren offered no more than a small nod to woman and the room relaxed minutely, before addressing the two nearest stormtroopers.

“You two. Take him to join the other traitors.” Ren ordered, tugging Hux up by his hair, before throwing him forwards so he stumbled and fell again. The two stormtroopers caught him, and with a salute, half lead, half dragged Hux with them, through the parting, murmuring crowd.

As they left, Hux overheard Mitaka’s faltering voice. “Supreme Leader. We’ve received new intelligence on the resistance’s whereabouts.”

“The girl?” Ren asked, turning the full force of his attention upon Mitaka. “Is she back with them?”

“We believe so.” 

-

The grip Ren had around his throat didn’t loosen until Hux was thrown into a cell. As the two stormtroopers released him, so did Ren’s touch, and Hux was left completely alone. He turned to closed door, warily rubbing a hand against his sore, bruised neck.

The cell was regulation - four black walls, a hard cot without so much as a blanket, a camera in the top corner so he could be watched. The cell was also uncomfortably cold, which was not regulation. That was a purposeful act of spite on behalf of someone. No one in the First Order tolerated traitors, and Hux’s failed mutiny had earned him that title.

At first the solitude was a comfort after the volatile company of Ren, and the public acts of humiliation he had endured under the man’s orders and actions. Now, save for whoever was on prisoner surveillance, Hux was blessedly free from watching eyes, from people’s pity or disgust, from Ren’s strange, ill-tempered infatuation with him. He slept long and often, with nothing to pull him from his maze-like dreams, and nothing to occupy him other than returning to those dreams to try to achieve something intangible in that shifting, sleeping world.

Hux wasn’t used to being still for long though. When awake, he paced the small room. He could cross it in two steps. He turned. Two steps. He turned. 

He craved something to do. 

When meals came, too cold, and too small, he ate them slowly, savouring the little flavour and texture the processed mix of protein and carbs could offer.

He lost track of time. The lights never dimmed in the cell. Either that, or he was already losing his bearings before a single cycle had passed.

Soon, he stopped being able to sleep as easily, too aware of the cold, too hungry, mind too busy from lack of stimulation.

Instead, Hux would pick at the scabs and scars Ren had left him with, at first without realising, and then more deliberately. He pursued each angry blemish, tearing off scabs as they formed, as if he could remove any trace of the wounds from his skin. As he opened the cuts again and again, the pain satisfying in that it gave his hands something to do, gave him some sensation to focus on, he would replay his interactions with Ren in his head, over and over.

Perhaps he should have done things differently. Perhaps there had been a moment in the past few weeks when he could have changed things, pushed the power balance between him and Ren in the other direction. Before that even, when he and Ren were competing for Snoke’s attention and approval, he spent hours ruminating about what he could have said, could have done that would have ensured him a place ruling _alongside_ Ren, rather than laying here, thirsty, hungry, shivering in a layer of him own grime in a cell.

Other times, Hux would chase the opportunities and paths he hadn’t taken, where he could have been the one to succeed Snoke. He would picture himself giving Ren demeaning orders, humiliating and hurting Ren. He would picture Ren in his place, a shamed prisoner awaiting his public execution.

He enjoyed those fantasies, poured all of his anger and cruelty into them, but the thrill of his imagined revenge was always undercut with the memory of Ren’s heartbreakingly hopeful expression when he had finally asked Hux for help, and of his look of utter betrayal once Hux’s plan had come to light. 

Hux hated himself for feeling any pity for Ren, any remorse for his hatred towards him. His fantasies couldn’t sustain the thought of Ren’s vulnerability, though, and he would be left alone with his freshly bleeding wounds and with an uneasy mix of emotions swirling in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter ~ Thank you all for reading, for commenting and kudosing! I'm a very sleepy bean and trying to juggle too many things at the moment, so please excuse the slow updates ;o; Got the next chapter's notes all written up, just need to turn it into fully formed sentences :')
> 
> Time for me to go sleeeeeep u-u


	9. Chapter 9

The first time his cell door opened to reveal anyone besides two masked stormtroopers delivering another pitiful meal, Hux found himself face to face with Mitaka.

The man didn’t explain his presence straight away, and Hux still had enough pride not to beg for information. Instead he watched Mitaka’s gaze dance around the small cell, over the wounds visible on Hux’s skin, to the camera in the ceiling, never settling anywhere for long and never meeting Hux’s eyes.

“The Supreme Leader is off ship for the time being.” Mitaka eventually said, slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. 

For a split second, Hux felt a flame of hope flare up inside him. In spite of the emotion fluttering within him, he didn’t dare to interpret Mitaka’s words as anything more than a statement. Even with Mitaka’s past loyalty to him, these words couldn’t be an invitation to mutiny, a reflection of his own desire to see Ren dethroned. He knew it. Still, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed as Mitaka’s next words extinguished the flicker of hope as quickly as it had been sparked.

“I’ve therefore been sent to inform you your execution has been delayed until his return.” Mitaka continued, finally focusing on Hux, the unspoken apology written clearly across his features.

Hux didn’t respond, and Mitaka hovered, apparently unwilling to leave without Hux acknowledging his presence. 

“Anything else?” Hux snapped, finally, breaking the silence. Mitaka flinched away like a kicked animal, and Hux felt a small amount of spiteful pleasure. “Surely you have better things to do than apologise to prisoners for inconveniencing them?”

“Yes sir.” Mitaka answered at once, the honorific falling from his mouth from sheer force of habit. Mitaka’s eyes widened as he realised his mistake, as if expecting rebuttal. 

Hux just stood still, feeling suddenly put out.

Mitaka flushed, apparently embarrassed by the entire situation. Taking pity on the officer, Hux sat on his bunk and waved a hand to dismiss him, as if he had any pretence of control or command in his current situation. Mitaka nodded, relieved, and left.

The cell was silent again. Hux stared at the closed door for a long time.

-

The next time he had a visitor, it was Ren, looming in the doorway, breathing heavily as if he’d just come from destroying some part of the ship or other.

Hux’s mind raced.

Ren was back on board. Ren was here, in his cell.

He would be taken to his execution. He would be killed for betraying the First Order, the one thing he’d ever been loyal to in his life other than himself. He would be publicly humiliated and denounced in front of everyone who had once feared and respected him.

His pulse quickened. His breaths became shallow. 

Vaguely, he felt himself stumble back to sit onto the hard bunk. Hux reached up a hand to his throat as the breaths struggled to come, his chest heaving as he tried to force oxygen into his lungs. His vision blurred with tears, and his heart hammered in his ears, deafening him, and he pictured his execution, heard his father taunting him, reminding him of his constant failings.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t show up to his execution in tears, in hysterics.

Even if he had nothing else, he still had his pride, for Kriff’s save.

“Hux.” Ren’s voice cut through the panic. “Breathe.”

And then Ren’s presence was in his mind, louder than Hux’s spiralling thoughts, blocking out his father’s voice, blocking out everything until it was the only thing left for Hux to focus on, to latch onto. _Breathe._

_Breathe, Hux. I’ve got you._

Hux hiccuped as his breathing slowed. He wiped away his tears angrily on the back of his hand.

As he became aware of his surroundings again, Hux found Ren knelt by his bed, head cocked as he looked up at Hux.

“That’s better,” Ren soothed.

Hux stiffened at the praise.

“Why are you here, Ren?” Hux asked.

“I missed you.” Ren replied, as if it were the obvious answer, and lowered his head to rest in Hux’s lap. If possible, Hux became even more rigid and uncomfortable, completely at a loss for how to react to this new display of vulnerability and ridiculous sentimentality on Ren’s behalf. Without really thinking about it, he began to run a hand through Ren’s hair. It was oddly relaxing, and slowly, some of the tension left his body.

They stayed like that for a long time, silent, sharing this small act of tenderness together before what would inevitably come next. When Ren stood to leave, he touched Hux’s cheek, softly.

Hux flinched away.

He heard Ren sigh, and then the man was gone, and Hux was alone again.

-

Hux played that exchange over in his head many times during the interminable days that followed. He turned it over and over, searching for something, like a puzzle to be worked out, a new weak point revealed for him to strategise over.

Suppose he had met Ren’s admission, and said he had missed him too?

It would have been a lie. He was not above lying.

Would Ren have forgiven him? Would Ren have taken him out of this cold cell?

He shook his head, digging his fingers into a scar on his shoulder.

Even shivering in his tiny cell was better than being kept as a pet by Ren. He knew the man was unbalanced, and he’d rather die than have to rely on Ren’s kindness and possessive affection to keep him alive. 

Then again, if Ren thought him emotionally attached, he’d be in a far better position to stage a mutiny.  
Hux laughed bitterly at the idea. He had failed once at overthrowing Ren, he didn’t need to embarrass himself by failing again.

Alone, cold, shivering and sleepless, he would picture the execution, the masked faces of stormtroopers staring at him impassively, the expressions of horror, pity, spite and amusement on officer’s faces, Ren’s guarded yet conflicted gaze. He thought of the others who would die beside him. Would he watch them die first? He thought of Marie, Jerich and Yann and the companionable, albeit brief, time he had spent with them. He thought of Sal’s strong willed loyalty, the risk she had taken for some far away family who would never see her again, and a feeling that Hux did not want to recognise as guilt settled into his gut.

He thought of Phasma, dead, body unrecovered from the remains of the Supremacy. He missed her sorely, missed her reassuring presence, but it was a kindness she didn’t have to see his descent.

Hux thought of Ren, more than he would like to admit.

Thought of fighting with him, and working with him, and of the vulnerable moments they had shared. 

As the cycles stretched on, unmarked and uncountable, Hux began to miss the man in spite of himself.

-

He decided, at last, while pacing back and forth, that he would tell Ren that he missed him. He wouldn’t flinch away if Ren touched him gently again.

What was one more humiliating display of vulnerability?

-

When he saw Ren, again, finally, he felt lightheaded, exhilarated. He couldn’t tell if it was actually happiness at seeing Ren, or just sheer desperation for distraction, for touch, for any stimulus. Either way, he had planned out what he would say, what he would do. 

He hadn’t even opened his mouth when Ren lifted his hand, throwing Hux back against the wall. 

Hux’s heart hammered as the pain blossomed across his back, echoing through his ribs, a fresh bruise forming over old scars.

Hissing, not even bothering to disguise the pain he was in, Hux looked up at Ren, tentatively touching his tender ribs.  
Ren looked back down at him, anger and resentment clear on his features.

 _Ahh,_ Hux directed his thoughts at Ren, not trusting himself to speak out loud. _I see you’re in the mood to beat up things that can’t fight back again? And here I was, about to tell you that I_ missed _you._

Ren froze at that, searching Hux’s expression, sifting at his brain for confirmation of this new information.

Hux laughed, which dissolved into a weak coughing fit, which in turn broke Ren from his reverie.

“Get up.” Ren ordered.

Hux didn’t move, eyebrow raised in a challenge.

“What, not going to tell me you missed me too?” He could hear the mocking edge to his tone, he knew this wasn’t the plan, but now he had started to wind Ren, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“I said, _get up,_ ” Ren repeated, this time lifting Hux with the Force, so that they were eye to eye.

Hux dangled where he was held, limp, starving, cold, but still stubbornly unbroken. He grinned, almost feral, as Ren took a step back, a look of disgust etched onto his features.

“Tomorrow. Your execution is tomorrow” Ren informed him, voice carefully even. “Clean yourself up.”

With that, a stormtrooper brought in a bucket of water, followed by another with a set of clean clothes.

“It’s a date, then,” Hux called as Ren turned to leave without another word, flanked by the two stormtroopers.

The water was cold. Hux washed himself as meticulously as possible given the conditions, shivering, but desperate to rid himself of the grime that clung to him. He scrubbed at his skin, opening up cuts in the process, so that he had to wash over the areas again, more gently. 

He dried himself with the thin blanket, and dressed himself in the fresh clothes. He felt a bit more himself. A small mercy, here, at the end of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point soon I will go over the past few chapters and sort out the spelling and grammar mistakes that come from only ever writing in the middle of the night. Please forgive me, thank you all for your patience and support <3


	10. Chapter 10

Hux didn’t sleep. The hours stretched, endlessly, unmarked. It was another way in which he felt entirely helpless, not even being able to track the little time he had left slipping away from him. The cold clung to his bones, and it was as if the numbness had spread to every part of him. He had no anger and no panic left; he barely even felt his exhaustion or hunger. He just lay, staring straight up, shivering on his cot in his clean clothes, a mockery of his old General’s uniform in case any of the audience needed a reminder of how far he had fallen since Star Killer Base, since Crait. 

When he finally heard noises outside his cell, the cold calm was still with him. Hux stood from his cot and brushed down his uniform. He was ready to meet his fate.

Hux felt strangely light, strangely at peace. 

The door didn’t slide open immediately, and as he waited he heard voices outside of his cell. Something akin to irritation stirred in Hux. Really. Stormtroopers stopping to gossip at a time like this. Had they no respect for the prisoner they were to lead to his death?

The conversation continued, hushed, but excited. He listened in, distantly interested in what rumours he might learn.

“Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?”

Hux frowned. That voice was familiar.

“Well. Public execution was just he kind of distraction we needed to rescue you.” Another voice replied.

“You remember that this is my public execution, right?” The first, familiar voice continued.

A droid whistled indignantly at that comment, and the conversation died down as noises that were definitely not a routine procedure sounded directly outside Hux’s cell door. He took a step back. Someone was trying to force the lock. Underfed and exhausted, Hux’s thoughts stumbled sluggishly trying to interpret this new information. When the door opened, he was left dumbfounded.

Three figures stood outside, two in stormtrooper uniforms, minus the helmets, and Jerich, in a drab, thin, prison shift.

Hux stared at Jerich, his gaze flickering over the faces of the men behind them, the traitor stormtrooper, and the resistance pilot that had caused them so much trouble. Feeling very much a rabbit in the headlights, Hux took another step back. He was supposed to be going to his death. He was supposed to be publicly executed. He wasn’t supposed to get caught up in whatever _this_ situation was.

Jerich apparently agreed. At the sight of Hux, their eyes widened a little and their nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Wrong cell.” They said, dismissively, and brushed past the other two, who were staring at him with expressions of mingled confusion and horror. The droid pushed in curiously past their feet, but upon seeing Hux, turned with a sharp disgruntled beep to follow Jerich.

A tense silence hung between them.

“Finn, Poe, Come on!” Jerich called.

The traitor snapped out of his trance. He took a few paces forwards, closing the distance between them to punch Hux square in the face. Hux’s head snapped back into the hard wall, his vision swimming. When he could focus again, the Traitor was gone, and the pilot was looking at him, a strange expression on his face.

The pilot stepped forwards, movements slow, and hands up, as if he’s approaching an animal that might spook easily. Hux stayed still, frozen in place, waiting for another blow, half of his attention on the pilot, half listening to the conversation continuing outside.

“You hit him?” asked Jerich.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

A pause.

“I wouldn’t bother with that cell, one of there’s, doesn’t know anything we don’t already. Nor that cell. Okay, this one, you ready BB8?”

The droid beeped happily, and as they released another prisoner, the sound of reunion grated Hux more than he’d like to admit. 

“Hugs,” said the pilot, cutting over the hushed conversation outside. “Fancy meeting you in a place like this.” He was grinning, as if he found this whole situation humorous. 

Hux bristled, But did’t respond. He gingerly lifted a hand to his nose, feeling the blood pooling out of it. Outside, he could hear the Jerich and the traitor making their way through the cells, rescuing resistance prisoners, and making quick, cold decisions over the First Order officers who had been unlucky or stupid enough to end up in the cells. He knew Yann, Marie and Sal were amongst them. He waited to hear his fate, head lifted at a defiant angle, gaze fixed somewhere over the pilot’s left shoulder. The pilot had his head cocked, studying him with an intensity that would have make Hux uncomfortable if Ren hadn’t systematically invaded his privacy for so long that he was immune to it now. 

With a small shrug, the pilot stepped forwards, evidently having come to a decision. Hux couldn’t quite hold back his minute flinch as he waited for the pilot to punch him, or kick him, or perhaps kill him. He could see the hatred in the man’s eyes. Instead, the pilot’s rough hands hooked under his arms, pulling him up to his feet abruptly. Hux let out a hiss as bruises, old and new, complained at the treatment, but he could tell the pilot’s actions weren’t purposefully spiteful in the way Ren’s often were. 

Without meaning to, Hux leant into the body heat radiating from the pilot, the support offered by the arm around him as he was lead out of the cell where he had spent who knows how long. He noticed this demonstration of weakness on his part at the same time the pilot shot him a bemused glance, but Hux’s pride had long ago been torn apart. He wouldn’t deny himself this small comfort now.

The traitor’s voice broke into Hux’s thoughts as they emerged from the cell.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Poe.”

“He could be useful.” The pilot returned.

He looked at the small gaggle of released prisoners, some of whom had been in their cells so long, Hux was possibly responsible for putting them in there. None of them looked convinced that Hux was worth anything alive. The pilot appeared to be purposefully obtuse, though.

“Have you found everyone?” He asked, before anyone questioned or complained about his prisoner again.

The traitor nodded, and was about to reply, when Jerich spoke instead.

“Someone’s missing.”

The traitor frowned. “Resistance?”

When Jerich didn’t reply, the pilot sighed.

“Jerich?” He asked, apprehensively.

“One of _there’s,_ but Finn,” Jerich replied, turning their gaze on the traitor, pleadingly. “She’s not supposed to be here, you know?”

Hux watched as a silent conversation played out between Jerich, the traitor and the pilot.

“We’ll go ahead.” The pilot decided. “You catch up, don’t take too long.”

“Yes, Captain.” Jerich returned. “Thank you.”

“Right.” The pilot said, addressing the traitor and the prisoners. “You all ready to get out of this piece of shit?”

At the mumbled, yet enthusiastic, assent, the traitor put on his stormtrooper helmet and lead the small group, while the pilot brought up the rear, one hand on his blaster and one still tight around Hux’s waist. Hux felt light headed. His world which had been tiny and lonely and cold for so long, and now it was filled with movement, touch, noise, and the long, empty corridors of the Finaliser. Too weak for anything else, Hux allowed the pilot to support the majority of his weight, and focused entirely on getting his feet to move fast enough so as to not stumble and humiliate himself further. Not, he supposed, that it mattered now. 

Failing to even be publicly executed without getting himself taken prisoner by the kriffing resistance was a new low, even after everything he had been through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO.
> 
> Poe has _finally_ appeared, which brings the first part of this fic to an end.
> 
> Also, because life stuff has been manic for me recently and I'm trying to balance way too much, this also marks the start of a short hiatus for me from this fic. I'm going to start writing up notes for the next half, and go through and fix some of the spelling and grammar errors of the fic so far, but won't be posting anything new for a few weeks.
> 
> A bit of an out of the frying pan/into the fire point to leave things at, but we all know how it's gonna end, so at least you all know Hux is out of immediate danger now!
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who is reading! It's so fun to write again and AO3 is such a lovely, supportive environment to do so. You are all so kind and wonderful ❤️❤️
> 
> I will return with some slow build shippy stuff and relucatnant feelings for you all in September!


End file.
